Several Hidden Realities
by Psyff101
Summary: Set after the events of MFOMT, Claire became a devotee and her passion for her work only intensified at the birth of her children. But wait, the new generation equals to new explorations and now they find themselves in a pinch. How does this involve Chelsea, her sole daughter and a member of the new generation? And what's up with the sparkles? Certainly Chelsea doesn't know yet!
1. On A Summer Day in the Middle of It

Chapter One: On a Summer day in the Middle of It

Third Person Point of View:

There is nothing to do at that moment and nothing to discuss, yet a woman bumps into the guard at the lobby. Claire fumbles with her bag, nearly stumbling into the front counter as she brought out the necessary amount to stay the night. She is a young one, a woman who has a small daughter at home and a reformed-playboy as a husband, yet she is still in her late twenties considering that she also gave birth to a son.

Presently, her face contorted into confusion as she strides towards her assigned room. Part of her wants to rip the person's face apart and the other part, well, she just wants to shred something to pieces for once. Her usual stern behavior is always covered by a bright smile on her face, making it seem sadistic of her to say a serious sentence with a smile. That's a family trait that she wishes her daughter doesn't inherit.

She pushes her way through a forming crowd in front of one room, thoughts set on actually making it there on time. An allotted time was set for her, either she comes on 7 or she loses the chance on learning why. Of course, with sudden rise of determination, she pushes all curious thoughts and strides towards Room 15 practically exhibiting it that she receives some curious glances.

Finally reaching the assigned room, she inhales the stench of aftershave and cigarette smoke as soon as her hand turns the doorknob. Almost everyone in the room leaps out of their seat at the sudden intrusion but one of them recovers just as fast, "Claire Raven Gilmore?" his brow arches at Claire's gasp.

In total, three people are currently in Room 15. One looks to be in his mid-twenties with spiky red hair wearing a dark vest over a long-sleeved shirt although the sleeves are rolled up to his elbows. His friend has green hair swooshing over to the right side but framing his face all the same, he sports the same outfit aside from his pants being white whilst the other is black and no rolled up sleeves. In her mind, Claire feels like she's in the presence of two high ranking officials as their unreadable eyes scan her.

Swallowing the lump in her throat, her mind can't help the thought that she's seen them before but surely she would've remembered someone with green hair. Actually, the Harvest Goddess comes to mind but then again, she's a she and this is a he…or a crossdressing Harvest Goddess. "Um…" she nods, following the motion of the redhead to take a seat on the velvet loveseat in front of him.

The green haired man leans against the wall, the other hand closing the door whilst the other stays firmly in his pocket. Claire notes the coat rack which the opened door hid before having two jackets hanging on each branch. There's silence as the man took his place on a chair and the redhead's eyes lingers on to Claire but seems to be thinking deeply.

"Let's cut to the chase, Miss Gilmore." His voice breaks the silence, leaning forward, his elbows rested on his knees as he cups his chin in a hand, the other testing the job of the armrest, "You are one of those that HG picked out, aren't you?"

First Person Point of View (Years Passed):

The sun must've had a personal vendetta against me at that moment. It hits me straight in the face, taunting me with its rays and striking me with its heat. Oooh, how I loathe it yet the blonde woman with blue eyes nevertheless seem like the devil incarnate. Maybe they should outlaw overalls since those are her favorite clothing.

I drop the hoe with a puff, wiping the sweat from my brows as moos enter my right ear. The devil woman rings the bell, expertly leading the herd back into the fence and leaving all the tilling to her daughter. It's easy to see why dad got hitched to a woman like her. She's got him on a nice tight leash.

Maybe it should worry me that women in my family has that kind of power and presence but having the guy on a leash is pretty tempting, and a little innuendoey but of course that's not what I mean. Okay, my brain does not need any images bordering that. _Clear your head, Chelsea, you have work to do._

Clearing my mind of any possible scarring thoughts, I continue on with my handiwork until Mom relieves me of seeding duty and planting tomatoes are on the last of my agenda. The scorching heat bites the exposed skin between my gloved hands and my orange jacket, so the replacement was welcomed with a glass of cool water. Though lemonade would've been more preferable but I'm not one to voice out complaints to freebies. Lounging on one of the folding chairs dad brought out, I took a sip and giggled at the scene of my mother barking orders at my dark-skinned father.

Hmm…I liked dad's dark skin but my older brother inherited that unlike mine which I got from my mother. Speaking of which, with another order, Dad gives Mom a quick peck on the cheek before running off to open his shack for the day. The action bemuses me to a level but immediately dismissed the thought lest the wrath of seeing unwanted images. Though it's obvious that Dad loves Mom for being the way she is.

Crossing my legs and eyeing the guard dog, Bear, doing his job with the cows, the mailbox crosses my mind once more but neither my mind nor legs moves with the intention. It crossed my mind because Mom has been jumpy whenever the mailman came, not allowing Dad or I to take them out. It's like she has a secret or something but then she hands it over after checking them. Maybe I shouldn't deem my mother a the devil incarnate, her worried expressions over the mail is something that a devil can't make that makes a regular human want to comfort her all day.

Damn, Mom is cute. Makes me wonder how she was like back in the day; innocent big blue eyes and short blonde hair holding an ice cream cone in one hand and the other tugging her dress…maybe I should stick to other thoughts.

The day drags on with the sun high in the sky and no clouds to help lessen the heat. Mom stops for a moment having finished planting another row of corn and turns to me. Her hair looks sticky due to the combined efforts of heat and sweat, sending a pang of guilt over letting my mother work. By instinct, my body moves towards her, patting her back with a smile plastered on my face, "I'll take over now, Mom. You go and rest over there or you might have a heat stroke."

She shoots me a look, one that's a mixture of relief and anger but she takes my advice, handing me the watering can. I stroll towards the watering hole, not caring about the dirt getting on my capris as I knelt on one knee out of habit. After filling the watering can, my next list of actions includes giving fluids through the can. It takes me over half an hour just taking care of the tomato patch since Mom's favorite fruit is the tomato. And about an hour later, I make my way to the Pineapples which are Dad's favorite.

Giving another huff, I watch as drops of the solvent escape the holes at the end of the can and do its job. Through the corner of my eye, Mom has fallen asleep on the chair prompting me to stop for a moment and pull open an umbrella to shade her better. Besides Dad's shack, Mom's the one pulling the ropes since the shack doesn't earn much on Winters and Springs. Summer's the prime season for it which makes me wonder why Mom still does the extra effort to plant more seeds during the specific season.

My arms crossed over my chest, tapping my boots on the grass as Mom actually mumbles in her sleep. I resist the urge to take advantage of the situation and ease away from the source of it. It would help satiate my curiosity by trying those that you see on TV, asking them while they're asleep to get answers but Mom is Mom, she'll say something if needed. That much a daughter can understand although the sheer amount of water the watering can holds is a mystery on the Blacksmith and the owner isn't.

I don't question its usefulness though. After watering the rest of the crops, my joints start screaming for some rest. Rolling my shoulder after placing the watering can in the toolbox, I leaned against the shed for support. My eyelids felt heavy in spite of it being midday, lulling me to sleep while standing. But all attempts fail once a strange grumbling noise flings them open.

A silent thanks to my tummy later, I quickly make my way back into the house and into the kitchen to make some sandwiches for Mom and I. With a plate of fruit sandwiches, my feet lead me to the exit of our farmhouse and place it next to the pitcher of water.

And the plate almost didn't make it on the table when a splash came from the river besides our house.

It didn't matter how I left the plate on the table, I bolt towards the source immediately and my eyes spot something unbelievable. A small pointy thing floats in the middle of the river, and then moves by itself to our side of the bank. My eyes watch as an equally small figure makes its way on to dry land, shaking off the water from its-his clothes, silently grumbling to itself-himself about something.

Overwhelmed by curiosity and fear of the new creature, I stepped back to hide in the apple tree. Whispering a silent 'thank you' to my mother for teaching me how to climb, I settle myself in the protection of some branches and enough to observe the being.

It's definitely smaller than any child I've ever seen. Its outfit consisted of all red and it seems to sparkle? Does anything in this world naturally sparkle like glitter? Although it disappears after a wave of hand. Okay, maybe it's a remote controlled toy or something that escaped a lab and came splashing into the river. The thought almost convinces me when suddenly, it moves towards the farmhouse and I mentally slap myself for forgetting about my own mother.

I leap off the tree, landing on fours and rolling, and dash towards the creature. But it surprises me when my hands made a grab for it; it's actually squishy and pudgy. I pull it up, making it squirm under my hold and my hands switch from holding its head to grasping its tiny body. "What are you?" the question left me instantly when my eyes caught sight of a nose and a pair of eyes glaring at me with fury in its tiny body.

"I'm a sprite! Now leave me alone!" it yelled, trying desperately to pull on my wrists, "I'm a Harvest Sprite, girlie! I'll c-curse your fields if you don't."

The hesitation alone didn't warrant any changes in my line of thinking. I bring it up like a stuffed doll and stare at the squirming figure that threatened me with a curse, "Curses don't exist, runt."

If looks could kill then at that moment, I would've been pummeled and pierced by a hundred daggers by just its glare, "I am not a runt! I am the tallest in our group and…" its head snaps to where Mom is, watching us from her sitting position with a hand to her mouth, "Claire! Explain all this to your daughter." Its eyes start looking pleading at Mom but its mouth is set on a grim line.

Mom couldn't handle it anymore and releases a laugh before taking the little creature from my hands and setting it on the ground. The little gremlin glares at me once more before hmphing and moving looking upwards to my blonde mother.

"Sorry about that, Chef." A smile settles itself on her face before turning to me with the same, "Chelsea, meet Chef." Her hand motions towards the ball of fury then towards me, "Chef, meet my daughter, Chelsea. Although you've met before, Chelsea doesn't remember much."

Met before? I raise a brow at the thought. No memories come up even after whacking my brain for a reason, meeting a small creature like that should've made a lasting expression on me. "Care to elaborate on that, Mom?"

"Oh, you know some memories from you childhood sometimes gets pushed back so deep into your brain that you can't recall them?" she beams at me having memorized that by heart, "Well, I supposed that's what you're experiencing." Her hand pats me on the back, ushering me inside the house, "Just wait for a while and you're going to remember it all. I need to speak with Chef for now so stay inside until I come and get you."

And with that, the door closes behind me and I'm trapped inside the house. A few blinks later, the glitters should've blinded me by now as I make my way into the kitchen for a frying pan of sorts. Only to be stopped by a hand tugging my capris. "E-excuse me…umm…w-where's C-Claire?" another one but this one has the color green and acts timid. It shies away from my eyes, looking in the direction of the living room where a total of 5 'sprites' pop out of nowhere.

It must've been something that I drank because there's no way in real life that tiny creatures like these suddenly pop up in your house in the middle of the day and talk. Freaking talk to a human being and ask about the human's mother who owes her an explanation as to how she gave birth to these fellows. Maybe giving birth might be too much since the thought of having a number of brothers sends chills down my spine.

Turning my attention back to the green one, I muster up enough muscles to smile at it, "Mom's talking to Chef outside…go and wait with your…brothers?" It nods in agreement, scampering off to the other room to sit beside a purple one on the duvet.

Only one thought enters my mind as Mom comes in with the sprite: What on earth is going on?


	2. Reality Comes Up

******A/N: Thanks to my sole reviewer ScipioPB for making me want to post this early. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harvest Moon because if I did, Harvest Moon would have more drama and angst.**

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Chapter Two: Reality Comes Up

I bite the inside of my cheek and sigh. Something about this situation is off.

Cross that and crumple the piece of paper then throw it into the seventh circle of hell because that does not justify the scene of my own flesh and blood petting it. I don't even know if it is an 'it', turns out that they all have names and the only name that I approve of is 'Chef'. Timid is the name of the one who came up to me just minutes ago to ask about Mom and the rest are pretty easy to memorize with the help of their colors.

But it's just that…I do not want to spend a second longer in watching Mom being surrounded by sprites that bares a semblance to 'Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs', minus the appearances since Snow didn't sit on a carpet fawning over her helpers. "Why is she sitting on the floor anyway?" I ask myself for about the millionth time and blinking just to check if everything was still a dream.

My mind actually came up with reasons for this 'illusion'. In that explanation, I was the one who fell in the water (the reason for the splash) and the Botanist's researches fell into the lake, mixing with the winery's rejected wines that also fell in and finally merging with the Blacksmith's (dabbling in chemistry can be dangerous). The whole concoction spiked the river and my conveniently falling – though I still don't know when this illusion might fade so the reason for the falling of all those materials can be explained – caused me to drink the water and thus resulted in this.

Yep, that will become more reasonable and elaborate once I consult a chemist and various medical professions.

But right now, the blonde woman (a.k.a. my mother, Claire) sits cross-legged on the carpet in front of the fireplace with the red sprite in her grasps. She starts humming something like a song but the whole thing still has me in shock that it turns into a buzzing sound in my ears, prompting me to casually lean forward and hold my ear in my hands in the guise of observing them.

With the sound gone, the fire crackling overpowers it. I cup my chin and this time lean towards the armrest of the couch to gain a better view of the scene or perhaps regain my haywired reality senses because this is getting ridiculous. "Are you guys real?"

"Of course they are, Chelsea." Mom looks up with the honest glint in her innocent blue eyes sending the image of a child back to my head. Suddenly I am face to face with a face contorted in anger and fury with a pair of hands holding it like a doll, "Look at this little one…ain't he cute?"

Some things are better left unsaid, especially if a creature who looks ready to lunge at you at any minute is the object in question. Let me consider all of the factors before speaking; if yes then risk my mother going all goo-goo eyes on it and the creature gets angry – since whatever I might say will surely result in the same reaction…actually, saying 'Yes' will elicit the warranted reaction from my mother instead of a 'No'.

"It-", the glares targeting me will really make me melt right now, "_He _does look cute." Minus the death glares and being forced to say it.

Mom hums in approval, settling the creature back on its feet and handing it a blanket. "I don't think that it-_he _needs that again, Mom. It's been a while since you carried _him _in." Emphasis on the male pronouns lest experience death by small hands.

"I know but I can't help my little Chef get sick and all." The sprite actually whines against Mom's pinching and the other sprites all take a step back at the scene, "You're not going to get sick are you, Chef? How about you, Indigo?" her head snaps towards the group of sprites and an indigo sprite shivers. I could've sworn that one was named 'Staid' though.

"We're all healthy, Claire." One of them, the yellow one named 'Hoggy', speaks up for them and Mom reluctantly lets go of Chef's chubby cheeks.

A strange glimmer showed in Mom's eyes and her finger points to Timid, "Greenie stammers so much that he could be sick!" she makes a grab for said sprite but the whole thing seems so stupid that I didn't even know I moved until the feeling of the overalls in my grasps woke me.

"Get a hold of yourself!" I grit my teeth and Mom scampers to her feet. 'Scampers', now it's clear as to why the weirdness level actually went up a notch; she's acting looney.

Mom never acts like this even on family nights and gatherings, it's always that serious side that bosses Dad around and always orders me to do my chores properly. This Mom is like the child that I envisioned her just hours ago; running around and catching sprites with open arms, now I curse the picture since it's actually true. Wait! This is an illusion, just figments of my imagination caused by that random concoction.

Man, I really do need to control my imagination next time I want to swim in the river. It makes me wonder what would show if the Poultry Farm's and Yodel Ranch's wastes actually combined with it. I should really consider moving after waking up, maybe some place in the mountains where the fresh air would prevent these stuff. And as if reading my mind, a gust of wind reopened the window and go figure.

A woman exhibiting some holy presence appeared exclaiming a sound effect that strikes all the nerves in my body. Nothing can make this woman more annoying, oh wait, extra glittery sparkles follow her.

"What on earth? Is there nothing sane in this world?" I groan, restraining myself from just hitting my head to force this illusion out. And now I have a new understanding on how the Mental Asylum's detainees must see and feel.

The woman's eyes flutter to mine, making me feel uncertain of her overwhelming yet calming presence. A lump forms in my throat as her hands fiddle with her green braid, "Long time no see, Chelsea." She beams at me like an old friend meeting me again, which her words clearly meant.

"This is the first time we've met." Comes my blunt statement making the woman's eyes widen in shock.

Her hand moves to clasp over her gasp and Mom places a hand on her shoulder as though reassuring her of something, "Chelsea, this is the Harvest Goddess. Be nice." The end order switches to the domineering tone I've grown to miss yet nearly sends me into a convulsion.

She used that tone in this 'delusion'.

Meaning, this might be real and all this is the real deal. A 'Goddess' is in our house and claims to have met me before and sprites are staring at the said woman in awe. And my mother is a friend to all of them. What exactly have I been missing out on during my 18 year presence?

I've known Mom to be a churchgoer since Pastor Carter and her are friends and co-conspirators in making me go to church on Sundays. Dad's forced to go along with Moms' whims often so I don't know if he's a believer like her but maybe doubts should be made since this situation is clearly making me doubtful despite it being undoubtedly real.

"What is this world coming to?" My hand automatically clasps over my mouth over the question that escaped again. Damn that splash and damn that concoction that didn't exist.

"Unfortunately, a world that technology rules and the mysteries start being forgotten." The Goddess states grimly, "Just check the number of people who go to church nowadays."

No retorts come to mind considering that we don't actually go unless compulsory, like the Music Festival. It's pretty sad to see the people diminishing in spite of the rise in tourism though, you would expect people to go to a place as mystical as a church but people just refer to it as a simple 'building' today. Or that's what I heard. "I-I'm sorry…?"

"And what about all those strawberries that they offer me on my birthday?"

Mom gapes at the added complaint and hits the Goddess's shoulder like a close friend of the holy being, "_I _give you all those strawberries and give you offerings."

"You're not the only one who still believes in me, Claire. Remember? I'm as omniscient as the Harvest King." She argues but with a smile on her gentle face, "And have a wider ranger than him since he sits in his throne room all day while _I _have springs all over!"

With that she exudes energy that would make a blind man see, until another smack on the shoulder sends her down a level, "Sorry about that, Chels." Mom turns to me, bowing her head like she's the one at fault, "She needs all the confidence boost right now that sometimes it overloads."

I give her a curt nod since I don't even know who the hell this 'Harvest King' is? And does that make the Harvest Goddess his wife?

"No." the refutation of the Harvest Goddess sends my thoughts into a frenzy. I'm pretty sure that I didn't say that out loud and she just said, 'no' conveniently after my thinking of it?

Giggles derail my thoughts and welcomed me to the sight of Mom sending the Goddess an accusing stare, "Stop. Reading. Minds." Mom stamps her foot at the last word and the giggling ceases, in exchange for stomach's laughing, "I told you that it's bad for people to know that you can read minds. Sorry about that, Chelsea."

Oh, a mind reader. Why don't we throw in telepathy and witches into this formula and have a grand party? They can even have a grand privacy invasion party with wine and stuff. And then it hit me that she may have been reading my mind long before she showed up and knows that I conjured up an explanation in my head. _Must not think of the concoction, must not think of its components. _Even if it sounded logical, it still sounded illogical.

Mind reading? Goddesses? Little munchkin people called 'sprites'? and a Harvest King?

Damn, all these things are real and according to those stories, have abilities that no normal human possesses. I breathe deeply. So where does that leave me? Fear lurches through my thoughts and all my senses heighten. One word surmises my wish: Privacy.

"What are you thinking about, Chelsea?" this time it's my mother's voice and the Goddess's concerned face on me, "I told her not to read your mind but it actually got me curious. What are your thoughts about all this, Chelsea?"

All this time and she just starts becoming curious over how I'm grasping the fact that reality's crumbling in front of me. My mouth opens to form some words but nothing comes out and I realize that the whole room's eyes are on me. Never been one for attention, I freeze on spot in spite of retelling myself that all those sprites stacked up only makes an adolescent and not a man, plus they can't form a human by doing that, or can they? Argh, this is getting confusing and the Harvest Goddess could be reading my mind right now.

My eyes dart towards the Goddess who has a knowing smile on her face. Great, the Goddess is invading my privacy which is heavily being overrun by thoughts that yesterday would have deemed myself of having loose screws. Breathing in the scent of flowers and strawberries, my eyes dart back to the Goddess who is the source of the scent making my brows crease. A woman who smells of flowers and strawberries…nice.

"Why are you nodding?" a small voice queries and I didn't even realize that I was nodding in approval of the smell. In my defense, it is the perfect smell for when you're in a place like Mineral Town with all the nature and all surrounding you. The cough of a specific Goddess brings my thoughts back in order and repeats the real question.

Mom clears her throat, snapping everyone's attention to her, "I think that we should have a heart to heart talk first, sweetheart." Her hand grabs my wrist before allowing the grace to reply. Either way, it will still result in Mom telling the Harvest Goddess to go read someone else's thoughts instead of ours.

She ushers me to sit on the wooden chair in the kitchen and moves to sit on the one parallel of mine. Her eyes bore into me for a few heartbeats before sighing out loud, "How are you holding up?"

Words cannot even begin to comprehend what on earth is happening right now. And it's not the fact that supernatural beings are in our living room; it's the fact that Mom wants to talk to me about my feelings? The world must be ending since the last time we've talk was three years ago back when I was 15 with hormones raging. "I'm…fine."

"No you are most definitely not, Chelsea Artemis Gilmore because you are hesitating and my daughter doesn't hesitate." Her arms cross over her chest, giving off a final huff and glare at me.

I inwardly cringe at the glare since most often Dad's the receiving end and now it's understandable why he obeys Mom so fast. "F-Fine…I'm still processing all this since one second you're working and the next…" My pointer finger immediately does its job at the back of the Harvest Goddess, "look at that, sparkles! I haven't touched glitter in years! And they just magically produce it? The next thing you'll be telling me is that you 'harvest' glitters from those beings and is the prime distributor of it!"

Maybe not the most logical and sane thing to say but those sparkly stuff are starting to show again, this time around the Harvest Goddess's clothes like they're embedded to it which they must be. But Mom's brows rises, and her eyes stare at me with the unspoken word 'really?'.

I pull my red bandana over my eyes, covering the impulse to start stamping my feet like a little kid again. Speaking of which, 'stamping' she did that! A hand pulls it back up, but only half of it so now I have only one eye visible, "I'm learning." I glimpse the sight of a sprite propping it-his hands on the hips and looking furious. And my vision recognized the color as 'Red'.

Mom seems to be content with those two words and pats my back as she heads back into the room filled with supernaturals. Possibly to give me time to get things settled so I decide to do the most privacy ensuring thing with a mind reader in the midst: Go outside.

Giving one glance at the freakshow, I sneak through the back door and shut it as silent as possible which isn't much when a sprite's tattling on you. My footing brings me safely to Mother's Hill and a soft breeze caresses over the exposed skin of my wrist. I plop down on the grass, watching as the wind sways the branches in their orchestra.

My location's not literally on Mother's Hill but on the route to it; I managed to squeeze through some boulders that Mom hadn't taken care of and found solace under an unguarded tree unlike the others with bushes and ferns, this one was independent. This place is about as secluded as the mine in the middle of the lake.

Speaking of lakes…Kappa.

Glancing at the lake through the leaves doesn't help in proving my suspicions. On the trek to this place, stories from the past suddenly started emerging from the pits of my memory bank and surprisingly, I can understand why it required its own bank. There were stories about Harvest Sprites coming out of my mother's mouth as she cooked our dinner and I sat on the table. Tales of islands sinking, of farming becoming a way to save someone and the same being used to save a whole village, all highly unlikely but the mere appearance of the infamous Harvest Goddess is enough evidence to shoot reality and unveil its secrets.

To think that there are several hidden realities that I didn't know of. I press my lips tightly, feeling a presence to my side but not inspect it. Probably someone who knew of this spot during my absence, the town is rising in tourism so it doesn't come as surprising. But it rings alarms either way.

"Are you dead?"

My eyes meet those of a brown-eyed boy with leaves and sticks in his brown hair. His whole outfit resembles something that a farmer would've worn on a holiday but the way that my brain shoots up the number 10 concludes that this is a mere lost boy.

"Unfortunately, this means I'm breathing." He gasps, backing up and touching the pouch tied around his waist. The scene looks so cute when you add the fact that he's taking a defensive stance, "Whoa there! I ain't gonna hurt you, kid."

"I am not _scared_." He snarls, huffing and folding his arms over his chest but the one underneath looks ready to grab the pouch, "Be grateful that I wasn't cuz you wouldn't be breathing, unfortunately."

I raise an eyebrow. So this kid with an oversized green t-shirt on admits that he gets scared and is dangerous when he is. Well, people do get uncontrollable when they reach a certain point of fear. And this kid has that point up way higher when tourists are encouraged to avoid the forest. "Why're you here?"

"None of your business, woman." he spits on the ground and as sudden as his appearance, stalks off deeper in the forest.

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**A/N: If anyone's wondering about romance, I can tell you that romance blooms in the middle of a journey and friendships are forged first before that. It depends on the remainder of the journey if the bud of friendship blossoms into a beautiful love story. **

**Review and Follow if liked. Informative Flames are welcomed with open arms.**


	3. And A Character Appears

**Anyone noticed any changes about this story?**

**Disclaimer: You know what goes here.**

**Warning: Violence below**

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Chapter Three: And A Character Shows

He left me alone to relax in one of the safest and most secluded part of the forest. For one thing, that makes me want to send him a 'Thank You Letter' for stalking off and another because he won't be here for longer if he goes deeper in this freaking forest. Fear shooting through me, I push myself up and rush towards his direction.

With carefully paced footsteps, the trail leads me ducking and skipping under and over branches and roots. Fresh tracks from the shoes he was wearing are the source of reassurance for me that he is still alive. There is a reason why tourists aren't allowed to enter and the jurisdiction of the tourism management here only ends with the lake and Mother's Hill. There are bears in this forest.

I mentally scold myself about this rash thinking but what was I supposed to do? Dash off to my mother and ask the 'Harvest Goddess' to pop up a search party with her magic and quickly finding him. That actually sounds better but I was not about to let a kid be alone in the forest and rely on 'magic' to resolve things.

My hold on keeping my breathing normal fails, letting it be visible of how ragged it is. I stop. Pressing my hands on the rough surface of the tree bark, it finally dawns on how torturous the run is for my legs. It feels like a little misstep and they'll give in to the weight of my body. Sweat beads down my forehead and I suddenly become aware of breathing from behind me.

A voice tells me to move and I'm thankful that I followed. Its ears are nipped at the end, fangs flash and it eyes me with red eyes. Judging from the height, this one's an adult dog and about my height if it stands on its hind legs. One step backward nearly sends me plummeting down on my back.

I am in no way good condition to run from something that can easily outrun me in my full strength.

I mutter a curse as the animal barks at me, my head throbs at the volume but my body spins and muster enough to run. The proximity of its snarls lessen and lessen with each second and I find myself in a do or die situation. It's not a secret that a Wild Dog will tear you apart, especially if it deems you as invading its territory. And like my privacy was previously invaded, I unconsciously stepped into its private space.

Feeling the creature come nearer, I turn to a tree and find a good spot to hold. I press a boot, hauling myself up and proceed from there. Pretty soon my eyes catch sight of a sturdy branch and reach out to grab it and pull myself up. And I'm now safe from the dog, or that's how it should be. My footing slips, sending me spiraling to the ground with a my arm keeping me from breaking important bones.

Hot breathing above me, my eyes roll up and drops of drool land on my cheeks. The animal hovers over me, backing up a little and lunges. Instinctively, my arms come up and I feel the piercing pain of fangs on my arm. Profanities boom through the forest, masking the pain with fake bravery in pushing the creature off. But its weight was far more than I bargained.

With every attempt, a leg slams into my eye and knocks me down. I bite in another scream as its claws sink into my forehead and its teeth plays tug-of-war with the flesh. Biting down my tongue, blood splatters on to its muddied fur and down on my jacket and undershirt. It steps back, and adrenaline pulses through my veins. I clasp the gash on my arm with a hand and push myself up with the other, thinking that maybe the animal was stupid enough to let me escape.

It's barking. The heat from its breath frighteningly close to my back. I blink back tears and desperately turn for one last kick at the creature who might take my life away.

And deus ex machina happens.

Or at least, that's what I hope when a blur passes me and a shout enters my ears. My body's pushed back in a second and land on the ground harshly. My freehand moves up my head, the dribble of blood taints half my face but the adrenaline hasn't faded. In a sense, I'm hugging myself as I close my eyes at the sight of a pistol.

Bang.

The shot rings in my ears, too close for comfort, it continues for a few more seconds after a flurry of movements was made and I only caught a glimpse over the pain. The gender isn't what I expected. A worried expression makes its way to her pale face. Her pink hair is short and a headband firmly keeps it from blocking her sight.

She kneels beside me, gently pulling my hand away from the wound and whispering reassuring words. Obviously, I don't know how I appear to her but the way her lips quiver tells a whole lot about it. I offer her a smile but she shakes her head.

"Why in the world were in the middle of a forest without any form of defense?" her harsh voice scolds me but her face betrays her tone, concern still reigns her emotions as she plants a hand behind my back, "You must have a fucking death wish!"

As much as I appreciate her work, scolding doesn't really help with the pain. I bite my tongue as another wave flared to life but a groan manages its way out, "Shit. You look horrible."

"Kind of bleeding here." I catch the smirk on her small face before she turns to take out some bandages from her satchel.

She checks wound on my head and curses. "You're in no hurry to die, aren't you? Shit."

I try to tune out her curses, muttering some things about how annoying it was to apply first aid to a random stranger, and focus on a stench that suddenly rose. The dog was shot straight through the head, blood oozing out from it and strangely it reminds me of my own. The pain flares back to life and my heartbeat increases, and then an arm slithers its way under my knees.

Another wraps around my upper body and heftily pulls me up. I blink the remaining blood from my vision and catch sight of another pink color but with glasses. Turning my head, absently moving closer to _his _chest since I am dying here so there should be no misunderstandings. The lack of lumps proves that this is definitely a man with suspenders.

"…og…attacked her." The pinkette's voice seems to be relaying the information to her companion or probable relative but I can't hear his reply but feel it. His chest rises and falls from his breathing, forcing out an answer since running with me as an added weight doesn't sound appealing. _Wait, I'm not fat._

_Wow, I'm dying and I complain about body weight. Nice one, Chelsea. Makes me wonder what your last words will be…ordering pickles like a lazy person?_

From the corner of my eye, a flicker of white comes and unconsciousness consumes me.

People expects dream when they're unconscious, right? But slipping in and out with your eyelids being heavy brings extra strain to your body. For the third time, I attempt to raise my eyelids, feeling sharp pain on the right side of my forehead. I know for certain the there are people in the room and my parents are beside me, the warmth on my hand being enough evidence for it.

Wait! A hand. Trying to reenact those clichéd revival scenes, I try to move a finger. They feel like they were paralyzed, frozen in place that any attempt to twitch feels like a dream. My voice fights its way back, but my lips themselves act like bars sealing my voice in. If I was watching me, my voice would've sounded muffled humming.

"Chelsea?" the grip tightens around my hand, with newfound strength; I feel my hand twitch. It twitched! The way I woke up, people would be in awe. A blonde woman staggers on to her feet, clutching my shoulders and shaking me, or is it her that's doing the trembling alone?

I open my eyes, and close them at the intruding light. "Close the curtains, Kai!" That's definitely my mother's domineering voice but it shifts into something soft, "Chelsea, are you alright sweetheart?"

My lip corners tilt up and the undeniable dry patch in my throat immediately springs up front, "Water."

Her face contorts to confusion and she motions for dad to go to the door, "Bring in the doctor."

Dad nods or that's what I recall him doing whenever Mom barks an order. My vision finally settles with the absence of obtrusive light and I catch sight of white walls and ceilings. In the hospital, go figure.

"What on earth were you doing that deep in the forest?" I can barely catch the worry in her face being overpowered by anger, "I know that I let you venture in it but," she waves her hands in frustration, "getting attacked by a wild dog and nearly dying? Chelsea! Do you want me to die of a heart attack?"

"Maybe I do, Mom." A smile replaces the fury and she exhales audibly, "And maybe I also have a death wish since I did fight with that monster and survived."

"Oh please! If it weren't for the siblings you wouldn't even…" horror stricken, she gulps and runs a hand through her hair, "I can't even imagine."

She pales. I try to sit up and horribly fail as pain shoots up from my left arm. Stitches adorn my arm and a tight bandage is wrapped around my head. And someone's slipped me in a hospital gown. "How long was I out?"

"Not too long." The doctor comes in, hands in his coat pockets and a stern expression on his face. I already know that I will be getting an earful later on. "You were brought in by the Rose siblings-"

"Is that their surname?"

"No, I just call them that because of their hair color." My mind isn't convinced at the tone of his voice and the fact that there's a ghost of a smile hinting on his face, "Back on topic, your wounds have been stitched and wrapped up so control your known tendencies to fiddle with bandages. And judging from your previous medical records, this isn't the first time this happened. It's a miracle that you didn't die from blood lost but a welcomed one."

Probably because that wasn't that first time I got bitten by a wild dog and got vaccinated for rabies. But that's just a theory. I spot Dad's elbow, his back against the doorframe and some voices from the hallway. Turning to the black-haired doctor, "Is there a visitor?"

He looks over his shoulder and sighs, "Alex has been jumpy ever since they heard of your attack. Threatened to run into the forest and shoot the rascal that did this to you. Oh and be wary of Elli when you sign the release papers."

"But Elli's the one at the reception." I feel a sudden chill and swallow the lump in my throat. A happy Elli is a good Elli, an angry one is the scariest thing to come to light. "I'll keep that in mind, doc."

"Good cause you still need some shots and she almost strangled me to be chosen." He shrugs, strolling closer and eyeing the bandages, "Good grief, Chelsea. We could've lost you if it weren't for those siblings."

"Come to think of it…where are they? I thought it was required for the saviors to be present when the damsel in distress wakes from her predicament." He scratches the back of his head at my wording but nods nonetheless, "Can I ask if the guy that saved me was a hunk, doc?"

His eyes widen, molding his face into a scowl, "I think there's a reason why I was relieved that Alex wasn't born a girl."

"That's sexist, doc." I slink back down, relaxing at the soft feeling of the mattress against my back, "And that was a good choice in wording. No angry mob will be formed by the feminists groups and shut down this clinic."

His arms fold across his chest, "This _is _the only clinic in town and don't you dare go all feminist on me today because even I'm seething. And lastly, your mother should be the only one you should ask about that because I am positive that you would blackmail me if I answered that."

"So you're saying that you'll cave if I say that I won't use your words against you."

Before he can retort, Mom saunters in carrying fresh clothes and carefully lays them on a chair. Strange, I didn't even notice her leave for that. Guess there are some things that Mom's hiding from me still and stealth is definitely something I want to learn. I make a mental note on asking her if she has special abilities considering that she knows all those people.

And I now fully believe because the pain definitely wasn't fake.

And I should've woken up in bed, in my room, without bandages.

_Urgh, I hate how normal things suddenly become distorted._

I remember when there was a time when no Ellis burst through doors with a maniacal grin on their faces. I remember when there was a time when Alex, my brown-haired chum, didn't stroll through white doors and tease you about what you asked his father. Now that was the life.

Alex saunters in, a plastic bag in his hands with some leaves peeking out of it. His brown hair resembles the style his father has but the fact that he is the complete genderbended version of his mother doesn't help in manly appearance. He is one of the few people that I deem as a natural mind reader since his smirk warps into a grimace so naturally that it also coincides with crossdressing thoughts.

Testing this theory, I picture him prancing around in the nurse's garb his mother wears and it does happen in real life. "I know that look on your face, Chels. And I'm not liking it one bit." he shakes his head.

"Oh…" I coo at him conscious of the grin splitting my face, "Little Alex doesn't wanna pway dwess up."

"If you weren't injured, Chelsea." He pulls a chair closer to the bed and leans forward with his elbows resting on his thighs, "I would've sent you to the hospital over and over again since I do get free treatment here."

"The perks of being a doctor's son…go and write a book about that. I think it might sell in Mineral." I swing an arm slowly, "Think about it…the former hotshot doctor of Mineral town who risked his life saving his nurse who soon became his wife. Now his son faces his coming of age. The first of the trilogy!"

Alex arches an eyebrow, unimpressed and rests his chin in his palm, "How's your arm feeling?"

"Oooh, Alex is worried about little old me!"

"Yes, yes I am. Now about that bite mark on your forehead having reached your brain." His hand presses on to the bandage that I say makes me look like an impressive pirate but the black eye not being covered by an eyepatch is a disappointment. "Damn it, Chels." he murmurs, sinking back into his chair and eyeing me with one hand over his right eye like he was in pain. "You could've died."

The atmosphere becomes gray as he buries his face in his hands, "Don't worry about me, Alex. I'm pretty optimistic that I would haunt your wedding even as a ghost."

His lip corners twitch and I think he wanted to smile but decided against it, "Don't even joke about that, Chels."

Situations like these, I'm awkward at. And it isn't the first time Alex's emotions border a break down. Slowly, I reach up to ruffle his brown hair and manage a whisper, "I ain't gonna up and let my little brother have his bachelor bash without me."

Retracting my hand, he smirks, "I am not getting married yet, Chels."

"I know, bub." Alex inhales deeply and finally pulls off his hands from his face, "Now let's get talking about ink and papers."

You know when Alex is better when you catch that smile tugging at the end of his lips and he's forcing it down. "You really make any situation light, Chels."

"You do know that that's the fourth time you've said my name, bub...fifth if you count my full name."

"Are we intruding on something?" queries a woman about the same age as us with pink hair and a headband. A wave of familiarity hit me but can't link it to a name. I open my mouth to speak but Alex beats me to it.

"Miss Natalie." His voice rises up like she was an important person which strangely feels like it as she stares at me. Alex turns to me, his hand gesturing to the woman with a green shirt, "Chels, this is the person who applied first aid to you." _Sixth._

"Oh." I survey the woman and she does fit the characteristics of the person who shot the dog. An empty holster hangs from her hip in spite of wearing a skirt, she emits the feeling of a tough woman and her face certainly shows it. "You were the one cursing, weren't you?"

She smirks, taking a step forward so that she's beside Alex, "You like cursing or something if you distinctly remember that bout me?"

I whack my memory for her specific words and quote, "'You must have a _fucking _death wish.' I think that if I did die, I'll remember you the most."

"Chelsea Artemis Gilmore, I have some things to discuss with you." Her eyes glance sideways at Alex who did not notice her action, "But maybe later after you get out of this reeking place."

Appalled by her words, the man wearing a white long-sleeved shirt spins to her but gawks instead of retorting. The girl's retreating back greets him. "Wait a moment!"

She throws a glance at him, sticking a tongue out, "I'm into chefs, medic."

Nicknames are one of the things that irks Alex in his 'Most of All' list. His face turns red, and I can say that if we were in a cartoon, steam would've been coming from his ears not just the color alterations. I watch as Alex dashes out of the room. _One, two, three._

His appearance comes back in a blur and the bag of groceries disappears with him.

I slump back into the comfy comforts of the sheets sulking at the thought of water and the lack of it. Where's my water?

And if Alex somehow hears it and says a game reference, I will not hesitate in strangling him till he weeps.

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_**A/N:**_**I will try to keep the OCs to a minimum so bear with me since this is post-MFOMT and takes place in the timeline of Chelsea and Mark (which game is a secret). And I do not know much about animal attacks so excuse the bad medical scene. Also note that this will be the last _long _author's note you'll see here unless I have some big annoncements that would affect my uploading.  
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**Review and Follow (since you must've already read it if you're reading this at the end) if liked. Informative flames are welcomed with open arms.**


	4. Revealing the Reasons

**A/N: Oh, you guys make me feel all fuzzy inside since this isn't really a romance based story so thanks. **

**IMPORTANT NOTICE: If there is time, my perfectionist side will rewrite the first few chapters (really low number of views there guys) as I do have fanfiction reader on my mobile. Oh and this will be the last chapter for now as I will go on vacation for two months and because of it I will lack access to computers and internet. Sorry for the delay (LOL I just noticed that I regularly post within two days) and happy reading. **

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**Chapter Four: Revealing the Reasons**

There was a time when things weren't all…white. I guess one could say that being in the hospital for a good three days makes you sick of the color and the scent of antiseptic. And the needles, never forget the needles because just seeing it now makes me understand how someone could develop a phobia of it.

I perch myself at the edge of the seat, swinging my legs under it like an impatient child as Mom signs my release papers. She stands there in front of Elli, chatting. Although I do think that they're talking about me behind my back since I catch Elli's eyes darting to me once in a while. Alex hadn't come to visit me in a while, claiming that a black eye on me sends chills down his spine (Honestly don't know why) and that Natalie girl certainly said something along the lines of 'unbelievable' and 'impossible', possibly because it is just that.

Today she asked to meet me again about that 'thing' and to spite Alex's warnings after seeing her pick up her gun, well it's easy to say that I will meet with her; my curiosity winning over caution. Mom's back was turned to me; I throw my head back and stare up at the ceiling, following the motion of the ceiling fan (there was nothing else to do so what?). Swaying my head to be included in its range, something smacks my face.

"Damn it!" I clutch the paper and stare at the writing 'Pirate'. I blink, crumpling the paper into the ball and throw it carelessly to where the trash bin stood. And then it came back, hitting my ear. "Who…"

The kid's hands were propped up on his hips and his eyes narrow at me, "Litterbug Pirate."

"It's you!" my pointer finger immediately assumed its role and point at the boy from the forest but he looks recently bathed, "You're the reason for…" I switch its target to my black eye, "this!"

"S'not my fault you went all mother hen on a random man." His arms fold over his chest and a brow arches at me, "Lucky you that Natalie stole that fuckin gun to scare Elliot."

I roll my eyes inwardly and cock a brow. The kid refers to himself as a man, now that's original. "Language, kid." I spit out just to see him do the expected reaction. His eyes narrow at me and he stalks towards me, stopping just a feet from where I sat. I bite my inner cheek and stifle a laugh at my prediction.

"You don't have any authority on me." A smug grin crawls up his face.

I hunch over the elbow rest, resting my head on a fist and turn to face him. This kid seems interesting enough, like a mini-Alex except for his wordings. He wears an overlarge green t-shirt that reaches to his hip where that pouch is held by a belt wrapped tightly around his waist, "What's in the bag, bub?"

"I have no reason to answer to you." He eyes me smugly like that's going to irk me. I open my mouth to retort by saying just exactly that when Mom's voice calls out to me. Automatically, my head snaps to the source of the sound and spot her coming closer to me. When I turn back to the kid, he was gone again. Not like I'm gonna chase him around the hospital; the head injury's more than enough reason to be thankful for not inflicting amnesia.

And risking banging my head on a wall isn't on the agenda.

Mom shoots me a warm smile and we move out of the horrid hospital and into the scenery of trees and pavements. The cool breeze smacks me straight in the face, causing me to close my eyes for a moment and squint at its strength. Fighting for vision against the wind isn't on the agenda as well. But I persist in striding beside my mother and we make it to the square, until sparkles appear.

She squeaks in surprise, jumping backwards at the sight while I just stand there motionless. The sparkles are the least of my concern as of the bandage on my arm. It's the green one. True to his name, he sneaks behind my mother and bashfully tugs on her arm, avoiding eye contact with me no matter what. Mom's head turns to me as though pleading instead of asking for permission. I give her a curt nod and stuff my hands into my jacket pockets.

I continue the walk back home, waving at Stu and May carrying their newborn baby, Sam and at Popuri in Poultry Farm. The pink headed woman beams at me, clumsily losing hold on her bucket and spilling water all over the ground. I contemplate whether or not to help her, until Rick swoops in to help her.

Just the regular scene in Mineral. Or at least until the events three days ago. Mom doesn't talk about it anymore but the glitters still appear at the corner of my eye during the duration of my confinement and that's proof that I didn't get bitten by a dog before meeting the Harvest Goddess.

I sigh, taking the turn to the farm. Seriously speaking, the Harvest Goddess is real and we worship her. There's a Harvest King that HG holds speaks in contempt of and there are Harvest Sprites. Makes me wonder if there are witches and wizards out there, maybe I could meet one and ask for a memory eraser. I shake my head at the thought; there was a reason why I was relieved to not have suffered amnesia.

When the door swings open at my push, there's no one inside and the absence of mooing and baas means that Mom left them in the shed for the day. Closing the door behind me, I head upstairs quickly changing out of the white jacket and into my yellow undershirt which smells pretty good considering it was what I wore at that time. The sweat trailing down my face confirms my need of not wearing a jacket so I ask why Mom forced me to wear one in the first place. In the middle of freaking summer!

I secure the shirt with a yank at its hem, standing in front of the mirror. Yep, there're definitely the bandages around my arm and on my forehead, plus the black eye has yet to disappear but it's lucky that I didn't get blind. And I'm thankful that I didn't see the exact moment she pulled the trigger on the animal.

Am I feeling pity for the animal that almost killed me? Something tugs in my heart and the picture of the wild dog sprawled on the ground resurfaces, enough for bile to rise to my throat. It's a miracle that Natalie can handle seeing that scene, not to mention cause it in spite of just 'borrowing' the gun. Who owns the gun anyway? Her boyfriend? But I doubt that a 'chef' as pertained from her type of guy would carry a gun.

I wonder what he looks like. Probably a man taller than Natalie, dark haired and looks exceptionally hawt in his white chef uniform. I bang my head on the door. Natalie's lucky if he does look like that. A loli-shota doesn't really look good with her tomboy image.

Walking through the hallway into the kitchen, my hands blindly hunt for something to eat (which isn't really a problem if you live on a farm) and touch something soft. Thinking it food, I proceed to bring it out of the refrigerator and up to my mouth. Only to stop as its eyes blink at me in horror.

"The Hell!" it leaps out of my grasps, successfully landing on his two feet on to the wooden floor, "Chef!"

"Oh, just a few days ago you call us 'it' and now we suddenly have names." Says the little sprite coldly, tapping his feet but no sound comes from it, "You believe us now?"

My arm quickly stretches into the refrigerator again and this time, taking out a real apple to gnaw on, "I would've run out of this house screaming 'bloody hell' if I didn't. Having a conversation with a being so small really tests your sanity, you know?"

He shakes his head unimpressed and pivots his shoes to exit. "Wait."

His head turns to me, watching me over his shoulder, "Couldn't you just, you know…" I pantomime an explosion with my hand, "Poof or something. Sounds easier than walking I tell you."

"Unfortunately, I have to stay and watch over you as Claire calls it..." He complains, rotating his body so he faces me properly, "Babysitting job."

I could just imagine how Mom said that to Chef, pinching his cheeks until he agreed or maybe the other sprites underwent the same torture and he was the one who succumbed. "Okay." I nod. It isn't really appropriate to complain about what's already done, plus, the head injury can really make you wish that you don't get a headache.

Though I don't really know if the injury intensifies the pain, I'd rather not experiment on it.

Chef takes his spot on the couch, leaning against the armrest instead of the back. I plop down on the armchair and chew on my snack. Occasionally, he would glance up to me, only to retreat to the ground when I catch his eye. It goes on for a good whole minute, eyes moving up then down, then up again then to the ceiling. Geez, this sprite needs to decide on something before he suffers some kind of eye illness or something.

Do sprites even get sick? But it would be impossible if they fear Mom taking care of them.

Taking a bite of my half-eaten apple, I decide on asking him a question, "So why just now?"

He jumps at my voice and raises a brow, "Why now to show yourself instead of years ago when I would've easily believed you."

"Something only a specific person can tell you." He states robotically. This whole thing was orchestrated by someone then if they were trained to say that to me. His eyes finally decide to stick to me, "I can only tell you that's it's a very serious topic."

"What? End of the world? Stopping the apocalypse?" A bite into the apple, "I think that you should call on to the 'Warriors of Light' for that or someone named after an element."

"Excuse me?"

A knock on the door disrupts our conversation and he poofs away. Probably somewhere in the house if he still follows Mom's orders. With a sigh, I open the door for a pair of pink headed people, making me stiffen at just the mere thought. Until I realize that isn't Popuri and her daughter. Funny, those two here scares me more than anything.

"Hey there, Natalie." I tilt my head to the right to see a glasses wearing guy behind her wearing a nervous grin, "And you must be Elliot."

"It's nice to meet you, Chelsea." A light blush appears on his face but immediately disappears when Natalie pipes in.

"This is serious business so we don't have time for a 'getting to know each other' thing." She passes me but stops, turning her head to me, "Sorry for the intrusion." And continues into the living room.

Elliot's fingers rub his temples in and shoots me an apologetic look, "She gets like this whenever we find people like you."

I give him a nod, smiling at him. "No worries. An attitude like hers is refreshing in this town." Especially since she did save me.

My hands gesture for him to come in and he politely complies, sauntering off to sit beside his sister on the couch. "So what is this that you guys want to talk about?" I ask, moving to sit on the armchair and flash them a curious look.

Elliot shoots Natalie a look as though starting a telepathic twin communication thing with her. Or maybe not since she doesn't even face him, instead propping her head up in her palm, too busy scanning the room. I follow her eyes around the room. An empty fireplace faces us and was recently cleaned now that I look at it. The coffee table has an ashtray on top of it, paired with a translucent vase carrying a single moondrop flower. And of course, I sit across of them with the table in between us.

"Lovely wallpaper." She smirks.

"Yeah. Mom really loves duckies." I wave my arms and grimace at the duck wallpaper, "This is why we rarely have visitors over here."

"This one has Lanna's house beaten." Elliot chimes in, making me grin despite not knowing this Lanna girl but I can picture pink which is definitely more preferable than seeing ducks as soon as you step off the stairs. It's pretty surprising that ducks still haven't traumatized me after seeing the duck stare at you during a thunderstorm in the middle of the night.

Natalies claps her hands. Two heads turn to her to catch the stern expression that replaced her smirk just seconds prior, "Back to business." She crosses her legs and Elliot straightens in his spot. I mimic him, noting Natalie's tone at her sentence and clutch at my thighs. "I suggest hiring an interior decorator."

"Natalie!" Elliot scolds the pinkette and visibly restrains his hand from raising, "We need to speak with her like what Claire said."

"Wait. You guys know my mother?" both of them jump.

Natalie's eyes dart sideways to the man clamping his mouth shut with his hand, "Well…" she bites her lower lip, "Elliot has a crush on her."

I bite the inside of my cheek, laughter choking my throat at the deterrence. A light feeling replaces the heavy one from the serious atmosphere being broken to pieces. His eyes widen in shock and he stutters but finally settles to mere finger wagging and pointing, "Don't spout lies, especially in front of her daughter!"

_Breathe, Chelsea, breathe._ I suck in a good amount of air, watching the two bicker like the siblings they are, and release it. Feeling the urge of laughter to dissipate with it, I narrow my eyes at them and witness the pink headed woman winning over her brother. I clear my throat and instantly have their heads slowly turn to me as though they've re-acknowledged my presence.

"I'm guessing that the moment you guys finally decide on telling me your reason for appearing here," My arms fold over my chest and both of them scoot further from each other, forcing me to resist rolling my eyes, "is when the dirtied ruby gets polished."

"Ooh, I am definitely liking our age gap being smaller compared to the previous ones we've gone to for help." She brightens up and Elliot shakes his head, "Fine. I'll tell you."

Natalie breathes in, setting the mood for suspense, and out, "We need help."

"Nat and I came from an archipelago called 'Sunshine Islands' all together." Something clicks in my head at such a name but then again, this place _is _called 'Mineral Town', "It used to have a lot more islands but now it only has Verdure Island – where we live – and four others. We are okay with these islands but a threat came up." His face falls and he clenches his fist.

The action definitely doesn't go unnoticed. There's a certain hardness in his eyes that makes me wonder what he looked like behind those nerdy glasses. Natalie, however, remains in her same posture and continues, "A neighboring island sank."

I flinch at the news. An island sinking really is something to be concerned about. "Last Spring a voice called out to us and brought us to the meadow where everyone else gathered. There was something drawing us to the shrine but…" his clenched fist loosens and he sighs, "Not one of us could understand why. Until our resident farmer, Mark, told us about a dream he had about someone who could collect magical stones to raise the islands and appease the Goddess enough to grant eternal protection to our islands."

"It's farfetched, I know but then we heard about these people who claim to have seen sprites and they have significance in finding the stones." Alarm bells rang in my head and my eyes widen in realization. The sprites appearing now and what Chef told me, all points to this Sunshine Islands. "And then we ran into Claire while we were returning from Forget-Me-Not Valley. She told us about you and how you were talking about sprites as a child. So we're here now." Natalie finishes with a pleading look at me.

My eyes switch to Elliot who is leaning forward, his elbows resting on his thighs and clasping his hands together, "We've been having tremors recently so we need your help."

"Why did the others refuse?"

"They all have families to tend and one of them mentioned something about saving a princess from a mine."

Talk about selfish reasons when an entire population is at stake here. It didn't require me to ponder over this. Seriously, a whole group of islands under risk of sinking and the fact that now that I know that all this 'magic' crap is true then it is probable that it will do so like that island. "I could really use someone's help in buying wallpaper if I'm going to move though."

Their faces light up and both high five each other but immediately retract as though it wasn't on purpose. But both of them have the same grin on their face that emits relief, hope and joy over my answer. Or that's how I translate them since being sad over my answer could really be a low blow on me.


End file.
